December 10, 2013

Trivia Blog: A Quiet Winter's Porn

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

This gives a whole new meaning to the term “crack addiction”…

So somehow, amidst the onslaught of last week’s news about shoppers killing each other on Black Friday rather than just buying the same stuff cheaper online, I missed what’s either the most disgusting or inevitable news item ever: There is now a porn parody of the crack-fueled shenanigans of Toronto Mayor Rob Ford, portrayed by Juilliard-trained actor Peter O’Tool. (Get it? Because a dick joke.)

We all love a good porn parody. What would the world of cinema be without classics like Rebel Without a Condom or Raiders of the Lost Arse? I’m sure we’ve all gathered ’round the TV and shared in family favorites like Forrest Hump or Honey, I Blew Everybody? And I know you all have a copy of The Da Vinci Load on Blu-ray.

But what this really got me thinking about was the holidays. There is (probably) a serious dearth of Christmas movie-inspired porn parodies out there, and if other holidays can get in on the action with a title like Thanks-Giving Head, why not Christmas? Here, then, for all you aspiring porn directors out there (and please don’t take this as an opportunity to introduce yourself to me as one), are my top 10 ideas for yuletide-themed porn parodies:

10. The Christ-That’s-a-Big-Ass Story
9. Splooged
8. Jingle (My Balls) All the Way
7. Fisty the Ho-man
6. A Charlie Browneye Christmas
5. White Christmas (No Change Needed)
4. Jackoff Frost
3. Lube, Actually
2. ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, and I Totally Banged This Hot Chick
1. Tits a Wonderful Life

December 3, 2013

Trivia Blog: Drone Home

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

Just wait ’til Obama makes Amazon a government agency…

So there’s a lot that we could talk about with all the craziness that happened over the long Thanksgiving break, but I don’t want to give you people any more fuel for what I’m sure will be a whole slew of not-at-all-harsh team names about Paul Walker, the metro train crash, and everything else. So, instead, let’s talk about drones.

By now, everyone’s heard about Amazon’s plan to launch Prime Air sometime in the next few years, which would see must-have items like bulk boxes of condoms and used copies of The Da Vinci Code dropped on your doorstep by a high-tech drone known as an Octocopter; sort of a “mediocre Tom Cruise sci-fi movie meets the stork” situation. In theory, it’s awesome. This is using technology on a Jetsons-like level, replacing what up until now had been a just-fine system of delivery with a way-too-high-tech alternative. As long as it somehow leads science to progress to the point where I finally get my hoverboard that I was promised in Back to the Future II, I’m all for it.

The problem, though, is that this venture is doomed. We still haven’t quite figured out how to perfect vending machine technology in America, but we’re going to have a sophisticated, coordinated system of delivery drones work out A-OK? Screw-ups will abound, and it will turn into a PR nightmare for Amazon. But why wait to see how it all unfolds? Allow me to use my mystical powers of foresight to detail for you all just how the Prime Air program will go the route of Crystal Pepsi and the Virtual Boy:


Day 1 - Prime Air’s first customer is Denver native Richard Storch. He orders a self-help book in hopes of picking himself up following the death of his wife, Cheryl, who’d perished a month prior in an unfortunate washing machine explosion. There is a mixup at the shipping facility, however, and instead of finding his copy of Stop Crying and Start Riding Jet Skis, he accidentally receives a 500-pack of Bounce dryer sheets. The painful memories stirred up by this erroneous package drive him to leap off of the face of a nearby mountain in an attempt to take his own life. On the way down, he crashes into a drone carrying season three of Family Ties on Blu-ray intended for delivery to the home of Susan Lee of Casper, Wyoming. The failed arrival of her package does not drive her to a similar end, although she is super bummed by her inability to find out what happens next to Alex P. Keaton and family.

Day 9 - An Amazon drone flying too low over the Meadowlands strikes an errant ball thrown by embattled New York Jets quarterback Geno Smith, causing what would have been his 6th interception of the game to instead turn into a 72-yard touchdown pass as time expires. The Jets still lose to Miami 56-7, but the touchdown changes the mind of new Jets head coach Mark Sanchez, who was planning on benching Smith for good after just one more interception. The decision leads to the Jets’ fifth losing season in as many years, as Smith resorts to throwing the ball skyward whenever pressured in hopes of striking yet another drone for a ricochet touchdown.

Day 13 - Amazon cancels all Prime Air service in three southern states after losing hundreds of drones to drunken rednecks with guns, as drunken rednecks with guns are wont to do.

Day 26 - An Amazon drone, after dropping off a 10-pack of Hanes Tagless Boxer Briefs at the McMillan home in Chillicothe, Ohio, picks up the McMillan family cat, Buttons, and carries it away. Buttons is never seen again. Internet theorists speculate that the drones now have a taste for blood.

Day 37 - In a misguided attempt at improving its image, Amazon works out a deal with AMC’s The Walking Dead in which a drone wearing a sheriff’s hat replaces Carl.

Day 38 - Embarrassingly for Amazon, fans of The Walking Dead wholeheartedly reject the drone, claiming they’d rather watch that dead-eyed little actor every week instead of the drone.

Day 47 - President Chris Christie is embarrassed to discover that an Amazon drone had lodged itself in his layers of back fat sometime during the day’s events. Amazon’s stock rises upon release of the news.

Day 63 - After a relatively scandal-free period, Amazon is disgusted to learn that one of its drones has been seen canoodling with Miley Cyrus. The drone is retrieved and melted down. Everyone at Amazon agrees to never again speak of the incident.

Day 68 - A drone somehow becomes sentient, kills a man in Arizona, and attempts to withdraw all of his savings at a local bank. The drone is arrested soon after, when bank tellers realize that it’s just a drone wearing a fake mustache.

Day 75 - Convinced that the program is a failure, Amazon shuts down Prime Air.

Day 76 - Amazon advertises Remote Control Air Dro, I Mean, Helicopters, marked down 45%, as their Gold Box Deal of the Day.

November 19, 2013

Trivia Blog: Zombie Facts of Life

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

Let’s talk about zombies.

More specifically, let’s talk about all the things you don’t know about zombies. You may think that because you’ve seen a few episodes of The Walking Dead or know how to do the “Thriller” dance step-for-step that you know your zombies. Compared to me, however, you might as well be the woman in this clip from Family Feud (the reason for this not-at-all-thrown-together-at-the-last-minute email):


For those of you unable to or too lazy to watch the clip, when asked by fashionable suit-wearer Steve Harvey to name something about zombies, she says simply, “They’re black.”

I don’t even know if that’s racist. I want to think it is, and it feels like it should be, but I think it’s just incredibly stupid. It somehow hopped on a rocket of stupidity and shot right past racist on its way to the magical land of Whatthefuck? But I’m thankful for stupid, sweet, stupid Christie, because it lets me share with you just some of the little-known facts about zombies that I’ve got swimming around in my head. You’re welcome:

  • Zombies love the solo music of David Lee Roth.
  • But zombies hate Van Halen.
  • If you shoot a zombie in the head, it dies, sure, but if you shoot it in the liver, it does the horsey dance from “Gangnam Style.”
  • If you’re out of bullets, calling a zombie fat will cause it to shuffle away and cry while writing in its diary.
  • Somewhat controversially, zombies prefer Step Up 2: The Streets to the original Step Up.
  • Zombies are excellent origami craftsmen.
  • Zombies hate cilantro.
  • If you pull a piece off of a zombie, bury it, and water it, in a month it will not grow into a zombie tree, because that’s ridiculous.
  • Zombies could totally run fast if they wanted to, they’re just not going to. Dick.
  • Even zombies think Justin Bieber is giant douche nozzle.
  • Zombies are worried that George R.R. Martin’s going to die before he finishes the Game of Thrones books.
  • Zombies twerk.

November 12, 2013

Trivia Blog: Snow Problem

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

The list of things you can do with the amount of snow that fell on NYC this morning, which, despite the talk of every single person on the subway, in your office, and on Facebook in the tri-state area, was not akin to an actual blizzard:

  • Build the world’s smallest snowman. Use a baby carrot and raisins to make its eyes and nose. Decide that it would be funnier to use the carrot and raisins to make tiny snowman genitalia. Laugh heartily and congratulate yourself.
  • Jam a single snowflake into the eyeball of every person who reacted as if today being 11/12/13 was something to celebrate, even though I’m just trying to read through my emails in peace, JANIS.
  • Pull some sweet moves on a half-pipe built between a halal cart and a passed-out homeless man.
  • Make the saddest frozen margarita for one ever.
  • Extinguish a tiny, tiny Human Torch.
  • Make sledding on those little Central Park hills even more pathetic.
  • Four words: Very Short Snowball Fight.
  • Make a six-to-one scale model of your penis. Okay, three-to-one. … One-to-one. [hangs head and walks away in shame]

October 29, 2013

Trivia Blog: The Only Time I Want Paris Hilton To Take Off Her Clothes

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

There’s so much happening that could’ve been covered in today’s trivia email: the return of the NYC Marathon, the World Series, Halloween, the launch of Obamacare, the fact that everything is now pumpkin-flavored, and so on. But there was one thing that, when it caught my eye, had to be covered for the atrocity that it was:


Paris Hilton dressed as Miley Cyrus at the Playboy Mansion Halloween party.

This is the polar opposite of the old “You got chocolate in my peanut butter/You got peanut butter in my chocolate” story. It’s like a turd wrapped in cancer. Texas wrapped in West Virginia. Stubbing your toe on the coffee table wrapped in restless leg syndrome. Kanye unleashing his seed in the chamber of secrets that is Kim Kardashian’s womb. Alright, maybe not that bad…

Still, I spent a solid 10 minutes trying to think of worse “terrible people dressed as other terrible people” costume combinations, and here’s all I could come up with:
  • Alex Rodriguez dressed as Voldemort
  • Ted Cruz dressed as a crying John Boehner
  • Alex Trebek dressed as Rush Limbaugh
  • Justin Bieber dressed as Hitler

That’s it. Oh, how I long for the days of stupid women dressing as “sexy [fill in the blank]” and calling it a day. Why must they now make idols out of other vacuous scrapings from the bottom of the barrel of lady-hood? Isn’t this what pissed God off in the Book of Exodus? If we’re suddenly swarmed by a plague of locusts, you know who to blame.

October 22, 2013

Trivia Blog: Euro Tripped

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

I’m back, god damnit. I want to say that I missed you all terribly, dear triviagoers, but my wife and I had such a perfect two-week honeymoon, which followed such a perfect wedding day, which followed such a perfect few days on the beach with family and friends prior to the wedding, that I honestly couldn’t even spare a thought for anything going on back home. I was deadbeat, absentee quizmaster, but I was a happy one. But I’m damned happy to be back hosting tonight! Big thanks, as always, to Quizmaster Pete for filling in the past two weeks after taking the time to come down to Florida and serve as one of my groomsmen and nearly poisoning himself with alcohol. Hopefully you were nice to him if I’d made a mistake with one of the questions.

I’m still pretty jet lagged, and trying to get back into the groove of things here, so in lieu of a normal trivia email, I thought I’d share with you the top ten things I learned during my two weeks in Italy and Greece. Please forgive my broad, sweeping generalizations based on one week in various parts of each country, but I feel that’s my right as a ‘merican:

10. Europeans give exactly zero fucks about lines. Lines may attempt to form initially, say, when preparing to board airplanes or trains or ferries, but they’ll always, always devolve into a confused crush of bodies while every person in the area just tries to shove their way to the front, even if they’re not going to the place where the line is leading. It’s like watching sperm trying to fertilize an egg, if most of those sperm were very lax when it comes to soap use and daily bathing habits. I can’t prove it, but I’m pretty sure that their hatred of line culture at least partially led to the destabilization of the Euro Zone.

9. Italians are LOUD. Wonderful food there, and it’s great to sit and chat with them in a bar or cafe, but if you’re looking for a country where you’ll never get a wink of sleep until after 4am because people are talking at their normal volume outside the cafe under the apartment you’re renting in Rome, look no further than Italy. It’s the Gilbert Gottfried of Europe.

8. Greeks, for the most part, seem to be basically the best people in the world. It may be the desperate need to keep tourists coming so they don’t fall into even more dire economic circumstances, but holy shit they’re accommodating and warm and welcoming and everything you’d hope they’d be. I thought that the best Greece had to offer started and ended with John Stamos, but there’s so much more.

7. It feels incredibly weird to walk through an airport security point without taking your shoes off. It’s like sex with your socks still on; you know there’s nothing inherently wrong with it, but deep down you know that it’s just not right.

6. Someone has played a mean, mean prank on Europeans, Italians especially, by telling them that cell phones don’t amplify your voice and play it at an audible volume through the speaker on the other end. That’s the only explanation for the level of yelling that goes on during all cell phone conversations over there. But it’s even more mean that they told Italians that fingers-together hand gestures are needed while talking. I guess they think their hands function as antennas that way? The person you’re talking to can’t see your sweet hand gesture, Giuseppe.

5. Absinthe is lovely. Just lovely.

4. If you ever get the chance in your life, GO TO SANTORINI. Paradise is not by the dashboard light like that fat bastard Meatloaf told us; it’s an island in Greece and it’s amazing.

3. Duty-free shops in the airport = amazing scotch that you can’t find in the states at reduced prices. The Colosseum was breathtaking, but not as much as a bottle of Macallan Select Oak at half the price I’d pay to track it down here.

2. I don’t care what Europeans say or how fervently they hold to their beliefs; bidets are ineffective and creepy.


1. Thankfully I didn’t see too much of it while on my trip, but there’s just never any reason to ever break out the Ugly American while you’re visiting these amazing countries. You get the chance to immerse yourself in cultures that have had centuries more than ours to simmer like a fine stew. If you go, try to not be the turd in that stew. Little things matter. You don’t have to learn the entirety of the language, but a few words or phrases will go a long way and show that you’re trying. Smile a lot. Say thank you (or grazie or efharisto). It was horrendously embarrassing to see the government shutdown business carry on while we were over there; the last thing I wanted to do was tarnish our country’s reputation even more. Think of how much we hate it here when tourists fuck up our routine even a little bit, and apply that when you’re there. I’m so glad for the trip, and hope that I was a courteous guest.

September 24, 2013

Trivia Blog: Emmy and You

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

So we watched the Emmys last night (and hopefully you did too, with this week’s second category!). We didn’t watch-watch them, exactly, but blew through them in a blaze of DVR-ed glory after first taking the time to watch some other TV goodness. That, by the way, is the only way to watch these awards shows. I can’t tell you how great it felt to speed right on by the reality show section, the boring miniseries stuff, and whatever the hell that interpretive dance thing was all about.

I’m not really sure why I’m a perpetual awards show viewer; I get sucked in year after year, despite the politics and the brokenness of the systems around which they operate. The fact that Emmy voters make their acting choices based on only one episode is ridiculous; how can you capture the full range of just how terrible of an actress January Jones is if you only get to sample one slice of her Mad Men shit pie? (A pie that she probably ate the rest of herself, if last season was any indication…) I guess it just goes along nicely with the all-encompassing nature of geek culture. Plus, anything hosted by NPH, I’m in. He could host my audit and I’d still be applauding his song-and-dance number while the IRS took away all of my money.

Plus, I got to learn a few things from last night’s broadcast:

  • Jon Hamm will probably never win an Emmy for his portrayal of Don Draper, and that’s an absolute fucking shame. If only for his ability to grow that magnificent lumberjack beard, he should have awards thrown at him annually. That beard is like the facial hair equivalent of Michael Jordan dunking a lob pass from Batman as Stephen Hawking plays Slash’s guitar solo from “November Rain” while being fellated by the genetic offspring of Mila Kunis and Kate Upton. It’s a fine beard, is what I’m saying. Get it together, Emmys.
  • If his winning speech was any indication, I’m pretty sure Michael Douglas and Matt Damon actually fell in love and made sweet, sweet love while filming Behind the Candelabra. I’m predicting that 2014 is the year where Douglas finalizes his divorce from Catherine Zeta-Jones and he and Damon go all in (pun completely intended). Their celebrity couple name will be Mattchael Dougmon, and their love affair will be glorious.
  • All winning speeches should be exactly like Merritt Wever’s.
  • Modern Family keeps winning the Best Comedy Series Emmy over shows like Louie and The Big Bang Theory because… reasons.
  • While it’s nice to honor the dead, holy shit that whole telecast was a bummer. I did not need to sit and weep at the renewed memory of losing James Gandolfini, Emmys. You’re like the guy whose favorite part of Marley and Me is when the dog dies. (Spoilers.) Plus, in all of the death-related stuff, you forgot some key deaths from the world of TV this past year (sub-bullets!):
    • Dexter‘s chances of being even remotely close to the good show it once was with that piss-poor final season.
    • The peak of my once-virile sex drive after an entire episode of gratuitously naked and sex-having Lena Dunham in that one Girls where all that happened was her banging Patrick Wilson and playing topless ping pong.
    • ESPN’s last shreds of journalistic integrity. Why would I want to see highlights of every game that happened on SportsCenter when instead I can watch a hot dog-eating contest between Mark Schlereth and Linda Cohn, or a 5-part series on Lebron James’ career (and NONE of them about how he’s a giant dicknose).
    • The last of my really great, “Yeah, now imagine what it was like to read that 13 years ago,” smarmy retorts to people who watch Game of Thrones but never read the books after that brutal Red Wedding episode.
    • (The Walking Dead spoilers coming up for this last one; be warned.)
    • (Seriously, don’t complain to me tonight about having something spoiled.)
    • (And don’t do it anyways just to be a dick.)
    • Lori and Andrea on The Walking Dead. No joke for this one, I’m just still glad that both happened.

September 17, 2013

Trivia Blog: Maybe They Should Call It HuffPole

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

I’m back! I hope you all had fun at Trivia Night with special guest host Quizmaster Pete last week while I was spending the longest 29 hours of my life taking part in the Million Second Quiz… all for around an hour and a half spent in a Money Chair to earn around $38,000 of fake money that I didn’t get to keep because I’m not a top-four finisher, then getting knocked out on a bullshit tiebreaker question by a guy who then went on a 5-hour run of winning. Not bitter, though. [shoves another pin into tiny, tiny Ryan Seacrest voodoo doll]

It was fun, I ate a ton of free Subway, and I have a good story for the rest of my life, but I’m just damned happy to be back hosting for you fine folks tonight.  Before we get to the categories and news, though, lets’ talk about this:



That’s a headline from the front page of today’s Huffington Post. Let’s set aside A) that this is somehow news alongside a story about falling U.S. incomes, B) that it gets higher billing than the revelation that R. Kelly is a “sex genius,” and C) whether or not I clicked on it to find out if she meant weed bong or beer bong (I did, and it’s unconfirmed, but I suspect it’s the former).

I’m more amazed that this could even be seen as a story, because of course Madonna has a penis bong. I’d be more upset if I learned that she didn’t have at least 13 penis-shaped utensils in her house. If she plunges her toilet, it better be with a penis plunger. If she uses a dust buster to clean those hard-to-reach crumbs from between her couch cushions (not a euphemism), it better be with a special cock-shaped model. If she slides from one story in her house to another like Batman’s Batpole, that thing better be veiny and flesh-colored.

Here’s the list of less shocking headlines than “Madonna Owns a Penis Bong”:
  • Chris Christie Has a Large Pantry
  • Jon Hamm Is a Rather Handsome Fellow
  • Kim Kardashian Does Nothing, Makes $1 Million
  • New York Jets Lose

That’s all. Step up your game, HuffPo. I want to know more about this “sex genius” business.

August 27, 2013

Trivia Blog: A Twerk for the Worse

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...


A short play…

Robin Thicke sits in his doctor’s office, looking disheveled and very, very ill. His doctor enters.

Doctor: Hey there, Robin. Sorry to see you back here after just seeing you yesterday. How’re you feeling?

Thicke: Hey doc, not so hot, as it turns out. I feel really weak, and the nurse said I lost a lot of weight.

Doctor: Hmm, interesting. Here, follow my finger. (moves finger back and forth in front of Thicke’s face) Any trouble seeing this?

Thicke: Uh, no, I don’t think so.

Doctor: No? You don’t see any… blurred lines?

Thicke: (looks at the doctor with a face that’s heard that joke too many times) Proud of yourself for that one?

Doctor: Sorry, couldn’t help myself. Seriously, though, I wanted to go over your test results from yesterday, because we might have a cause for concern here. When would you say you first began feeling ill?

Thicke: Oh, I guess since Sunday night.

Doctor: After your performance at the VMAs?

Thicke: That’s right.

Doctor: (ominously) That’s what I was afraid of… (pulls out tongue depressor) Robin, would you mind putting your tongue out for me, please?

(Thicke lolls his tongue oddly far out towards the side of his face)

Doctor: No, just put your tongue out toward your chin, like a normal adult would.

(Thicke shrugs, his tongue still cocked to the side)

Doctor: That’s okay, son, you can put it back in. Robin, there’s no easy way to say this, but you may have contracted a very serious, very new disease. Some of my colleagues in the area have given it such names as “ChlamydiAIDS” or “Heparrhea,” but I’ve been calling it “MileyCyphilis.” Robin, I’m afraid that when Miley Cyrus “twerked” on you while you were performing together at the VMAs, she passed this disease on to you. She’s basically the monkey from Outbreak.

Thicke: (confused) What…? But I don’t understand… How could this actually happen?

Doctor: We’re not sure, exactly. But we’ve noticed that it’s been spreading rapidly over the last few months, and it reached epidemic levels on Sunday night. There have been… other victims.

(Doctor opens door to show a waiting room full of very sick-looking giant teddy bears, girls with oddly large asses, and Jimmy Fallon. He closes the door and turns back to Thicke.)

Thicke: This is crazy. What are the symptoms? What more’s going to happen to me?

Doctor: Well, we’re still researching, but so far a lot of our patients have exhibited uncontrollable crotch grabbing, the aforementioned desire to constantly stick their tongues out to the side for no reason whatsoever, an affinity for trendy club drugs, and a strong desire to lash out at their fathers in completely stupid ways. And then there’s this… (turns away from Thicke to point to a strange X-ray on the wall) If you’ll look at this X-ray we took of you yesterday, you’ll notice that your butt has morphed into something resembling a depressed chicken breast that’s been left out of the fridge for too long. Now… (turns back to see that Thicke has used medical scissors to mangle his head into a horrible hairdo) My god, man, what have you done?!

Thicke: (crying) I don’t know!! I don’t know why I did it!!

Doctor: Oh god, you look like a cancer-ridden poodle!!

Thicke: Oh my god, what’s wrong with me?!

Doctor: (hugs Thicke) There, there now… Shhh… It’ll be okay. We’re going to get you cleaned up and you’ll get through this. We’re going to get you back to dressing like a grown-up and respecting yourself in no time, you’ll see. Maybe this will all turn out to be okay. Maybe these are just… growing pains.

(Thicke stares angrily at doctor)

Doctor: You know, because your dad was on that show…? With Kirk Cameron…?

(Thicke continues to stare angrily)

Doctor: That’ll be $5,000.

The End

August 20, 2013

Trivia Blog: NSync-ing Ship

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

Still holding out hope for that 98 Degrees reunion…

So it’s being reported today that this weekend’s MTV Video Music Awards just might feature a very special reunion of everyone’s favorite boy band/launch vehicle for its one truly talented member: NSync. (Note: I know that the band name is actually *NSYNC, or something stupid like that, but I refuse to type that whole thing out throughout this whole email, so I’m going with NSync instead. Asterisks belong as footnotes, as one way to make up the letters of a censored swear word, or to indicate that Barry Bonds and A-Rod are cheating assholes; they don’t belong in band titles. No one would’ve taken The Beatles seriously if they’d been named *BEETLEZ.)

I have to admit, I never imagined that this would happen. I figured that Justin Timberlake takes time every single day to thank God or Allah or Carson Daly or whomever that he actually escaped the boy band sinkhole to become basically the biggest pop star on the planet, and has never had to appear on a TV show where the word “Celebrity” appears mockingly in the title. This is a guy who’s spending the summer touring stadiums with fucking JAY Z, for Christ’s sake. He’s gonna get back together with the backup crew to sing some of their old hits? Really? I guess it goes to show, when you get enough money love and respect for your friends, you’ll do just about anything.

What I wonder, though, is how the other four actually convinced him to do this. There had to be some sort of reverse-intervention pleading going on before this announcement. Here’s what I figure each of them had to say to convince Timberlake to agree to the reunion:

JC Chasez - It used to be JC and JT, man, remember?! I was a motherfuckin’ sex symbol! Me! Not you! You were just the one with the hair that looked like bleached ramen noodles! I was the one with the soulful eyes and the voice that melted all the ladies’ hearts! Now look at me. I tried to do the whole solo thing, too. Remember that? The song I did for that movie where Nick Cannon plays drums in college? I sucked! Now, I have to pay girls to follow me and scream my name on the street so I look important. The other day, one screwed up and kept yelling, “Hugo Chavez! Hugo Chavez!” Do you have any idea how much it blows being called the same name as an enemy of America? Who’s dead? You owe me this, dude. And “Take Back the Night” sucks!

Joey Fatone - Justin, you gotta help me. I might die if we don’t do a reunion. I keep. getting. fatter. My hair can only get so much taller to compensate, but the family curse is upon me, and it doth hold sway! Do you think it’s a coincidence that my last name is “Fat One”? Because it’s not! Being in the band and doing all those aerobically challenging dance routines was the only thing keeping me slim. And unless Dancing with the Stars becomes a year-round thing for me, I don’t think I have much hope. Come on, JT, my cholesterol’s through the roof!

Lance Bass - Look, man, I’ll be honest: I don’t really need this. I mean, I almost went to space. Remember, when I almost went to space? Have you almost been to space? Because I’ve almost been to space. I’m in what’s known as an elite circle of people. You terrestrials wouldn’t really get it. Plus, remember how big it was when I came out? I was on the cover of People magazine! I was a media sensation! Between that and the almost-space thing, I’m sure I’ve got a big payday coming. It’s only a matter of time before NASA starts talking about almost taking me on a mission to Mars. But, you know, these other guys could use another chance out there in the spotlight. Did I mention that I’ve almost been to space? Wait, where are you going…?


The Other One - Dude, I need this. Last week I sold the last of my hair dye to pay for meth. Please.

August 13, 2013

Trivia Blog: Breaking Badass

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

Let’s talk about Breaking Bad. NO SPOILERS, first off, for those of you who’ve never watched an episode or haven’t yet caught up past Sunday’s absofuckinglutely amazing kickoff of the final 8 episodes. But I’m amazed by this show. I started watching it from the get-go back in 2008, mainly because I was super pro-AMC after I’d already gotten hooked on Mad Men, and over the last 5 years I’ve watched as Breaking Bad became not just the best show on TV, but maybe the greatest show in the history of TV.

That’s blasphemy for someone who loved The Wire and The Simpsons and The West Wing as much as I did, but Breaking Bad has the chance to do something that neither of those shows were able to do: stick the landing. The Wire didn’t exactly fizzle out during its fifth and final season, but it definitely lost some of the hyper-focus and solid storytelling that made it so good in prior seasons (especially the fourth). The West Wing couldn’t really recover fully after Aaron Sorkin left after the fourth season, although it remains a masterpiece and the best source of liberal porn for people like me during the Bush years. And The Simpsons… well, someone should’ve taken that brilliant son of a bitch out back and shot it dead about 10 years ago to keep it from peeing on its own legacy.

But Breaking Bad can overtake all of them, for me at least, if these last seven episodes close out as amazeballingly great as Sunday’s episode did. And I have faith. Vince Gilligan is like a hillbilly reincarnation of Mark Twain, complete with equally stupid facial hair.
For those unfamiliar with Breaking Bad and the excitement it arouses in lovers like me, imagine if some of the following scenarios happened in shows you loved (spoilers ahead?):

  • When Rachel gets off the plane and comes back to Ross in the Friends finale, and she moves in for the long-awaited kiss with Ross, he instead silently snaps her neck and hides her body behind the couch. When Joey shows up out of nowhere, Ross stabs him in the eye with one of his pointy, gelled locks of hair and flees the scene. Fade to black. The End?
  • On the second-to-last episode of Lost, it’s revealed that the castaways on the island are actually just in Cuba. People still remain riveted for the last episode, for some reason.
  • Johnny Carson announces that sometime during his farewell season hosting The Tonight Show, he will, without warning, punch Ed McMahon in the balls. Ed becomes delirious with fear and is only able to find comfort in gambling and drinking as he awaits a shot that ultimately never comes.
  • Someone leaks to the press that not only will Wilson’s face be shown during Home Improvement‘s finale, but he and Al Borland will engage in a passionate love scene.
  • During the last season of The Sopranos, David Chase chooses to replace each main actor, one per episode, with Sesame Street characters. The decision is never explained or remarked upon by the other characters. Paulie Walnuts is now played by Elmo, Silvio is Snuffaluffagus, etc. Everyone changes, all except James Gandolfini. It all builds to a crazy sing-along in a diner, but is that a gun under Grover’s Member’s Only jacket? I think it migh–

August 6, 2013

Trivia Blog: Megalodon't

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

Come on, Discovery Channel…

Shark Week is a holy institution for me. Like so many others, some of my earliest memories are of sitting in front of our old boxy TV, bundled up in my Ninja Turtles blanket, mouth crusted over with cheese puff dust as I gaped at the shows put on by those early Shark Weeks. It was amazing. My favorite thing in the world, just like in my favorite movie Jaws, on TV, for a whole week. It must be how Chris Christie feels when he watches the Food Network. Had I been more adventurous, lived closer to the ocean, and wasn’t constantly sure that I’d be eaten the second I stepped foot in the water, I might’ve turned out to be one of those people who say that they went into shark studies or marine biology all thanks to that first exposure to Shark Week as a kid. It’s a perfect six days of entertainment, and it’s never failed me.

Until this year.

If you didn’t happen to watch any of it (lucky you) and haven’t yet read about the shark nerd-fueled backlash that rose up in its wake, this year’s Shark Week was kicked off by a show called Megalodon: The Monster Shark Lives. What viewers were shown was what appeared to be a documentary wherein a marine biologist tries to track down a 30-plus-foot great white known locally as “Submarine,” a possible re-emergence of the ancient giant shark known as megalodon, that reportedly took down a fishing boat off the coast of South Africa, killing everyone aboard. There were eye-witness interviews of Submarine sightings, searches for the shark using something called “power chumming” (which, I think, is what Anthony Weiner was texting about), and all kinds of experts giving their knowledgable opinions to us, the trusting viewers.

The only problem? It was bull(shark)shit. All of it. The stories were fake, the scientists were actors, and the whole thing turned out to be Shark Week’s first foray into mockumentary-style filmmaking. They even followed it up with a Talking Dead-type after show where they talked to one of the “experts” and, for some reason, the guy who played Charlie on Lost. For shame, Shark Week. For shame…

Now, I wasn’t one of the people who watched the whole thing and then later found out it was fake and became enraged by it. We actually only watched about 10 minutes of it, because it became painfully clear after even that short amount of time that it was pure horseshit. What pissed me off about it all is that THERE IS NO REASON TO EVER SHOW ANYTHING FAKE ON SHARK WEEK. You could show six straight days of great whites jumping out of the water in slow-motion while Megadeth blares in the background and I’d be aroused happy. Sharks are real, awesome things that are actually out there biting the shit out of seals with the teeth and the jumping out of the water; you don’t need to go the Syfy route and show me fake ones. (Apologies to my buddy who works at Syfy.) Shark Week is supposed to entertain, yes, but within the realm of educating, first and foremost. Or, failing that, just showing clip after clip of sharks doing all kinds of ridiculously awesome stuff interspersed by awkward scientists trying to overcome their crippling social anxieties enough to talk to a camera.

Discovery Channel reps have come out in defense of the show after their Facebook page, Twitter feed, and (probably) homes were deluged by angry shark nerds like myself, releasing statements like, “It’s one of the most debated shark discussions of all time, can Megalodon exist today? It’s the Ultimate Shark Week fantasy. The stories have been out there for years and with 95% of the ocean unexplored, who really knows?” Bullshit. I really know. No one debates these things. That’s like saying, “Do dinosaurs exist today? It’s a hotly debated topic. As evidence, let me show you a clip from this documentary entitled Jurassic Park…”


But, despite it all, I know I’ll come back to Shark Week like an abused housewife in the first act of a Lifetime movie, because… well, fuck, it’s Shark Week. All I had to do is look at the upcoming shows and see something called “shark cam” and I was hooked. But know this, Shark Week: I’m not falling for that shit again. If I tune in next year and see that you’re airing Sharknado: Holy Crap, You Guys, It’s Real!, I’m out.

July 30, 2013

Trivia Blog: All Things Dayquil

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

Thoughts that have passed through my increasingly cold medicine-addled mind today as I rest up and try to get my sick body in trivia hosting-shape for you all tonight:

  • I can’t fathom any situation that I could find myself in where I’d want to sleep with any of the hosts of The View.
  • Unless Joy Behar’s got some really good weed.
  • I think my cat wants to eat me.
  • If the various medicines, salves and pills marketed to them during daytime TV are any indication, old people are living a horrible existence. They’re just a sad collection of bad backs, non-working nether regions, arthritis, partial blindness and whatever the hell Raptiva treats (hopefully it keeps raptors away, because those things are dangerous). But hey, cheaper movie tickets.
  • What does the “quil” part of “Nyquil/Dayquil” stand for? It seems like it wants to be a medicinal portmanteau, and I get the night/day thing they’re going for with the first part, but is the “quil” part supposed to be “tranquil”? “Quill pen”? “Tequila”? I bet it’s “tequila.”
  • I should really feed the cat.
  • Why would anybody choose to drink cough syrup to get high? This shit tastes terrible. Lil Wayne, you clearly have lil judgement.
  • Wendy Williams looks like Arsenio Hall during that scene in Coming to America where he plays a woman who hits on Eddie Murphy.
  • And yet I’d still choose her over the ladies from The View.
  • I have no time for Rachael Ray and her ridiculously misspelled name. You and Dwyane Wade aren’t fooling anybody.
  • I need a nap. Why is the cat coming at me holding a knife and fork…?

July 23, 2013

Trivia Blog: Royal Baby Bugging Bothers

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

Not since Chinese Democracy has there been something with so much buildup and so little payoff…

As I’m super busy and dealing with all kinds of shit today, this will be a much shorter email than usual, dear Gael Pub triviagoers. But along with today’s categories, drink specials, and the usual, I wanted to leave you with this one thought:

The hoopla surrounding the birth of the Royal Baby is insane. Something that is announced by someone dressed like this…



…cannot possibly be worth my time.


He looks like he’s about to go to war with Cap’n Crunch.

July 16, 2013

Trivia Blog: What's Wendy Hiding?

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

Somehow this wasn’t a plot point in The Da Vinci Code

So I read a story today about how Wendy’s had to debunk a theory that they had included a hidden message in their newest logo. This is that logo, released last year:


Crack conspiracy theorists (or perhaps conspiracy theorists on crack) claimed that Wendy’s had nefariously buried the word “Mom” within the logo. As further proof, they cited the all-red version of that logo used on Wendy’s cups, where the ruse appears in clear detail as a mockery to those who would wish to enjoy a soda without maybe-sorta seeing the name of a family member:


As far as hidden messages go, it’s not exactly playing a Beatles song backwards to hear “Paul is dead.” This isn’t even on the level of that wang the Disney animators hid on the castle on the cover of The Little Mermaid. And if they did include “Mom” as a hidden message, what would be the point? As a subliminal message to guilt you into calling your mother? I’d be more worried about the hidden horse meat in my bacon cheeseburger.

The sad part about all of this is how these conspiracy theorists focused on this fake Wendy’s message but missed the messages hidden in lots of other restaurant logos. Had they delved a little deeper, they would’ve uncovered all sorts of secrets:

  • If you squint just enough, you’ll see the phrase “The C stands for chipmunk” on the KFC logo.
  • If you look up at the Big Boy logo, you’ll find out that he’s really a woman.
  • If you place them under a blacklight, you’ll see the phrase “No Puerto Ricans, either” on all of Paula Deen’s restaurant’s logos.
  • If you stare into his creepy serial-killer eyes long enough, the King from Burger King will show you exactly how you’re going to die.
  • If you spill just the right amount of soy sauce on it, you can see a man having sex with a panda bear on the Panda Express logo.
  • If you turn it upside down, you’ll see the phrase “The real Jared is actually Honey Boo Boo’s mom in drag” on the Subway logo.
  • If you hold it up to a solar eclipse, the Taco Bell logo reveals a map leading to the hidden location of Montezuma’s Gold. But adventurers may only enter the temple if they can defeat the Chupacabra and then answer the wise wizard’s riddle: “¿Dónde está la biblioteca?”
  • Surprisingly, if you lean your head to the right just a little, you can see two gay men enjoying a nice trip out to Pottery Barn on the Chik-fil-A logo.

July 9, 2013

Trivia Blog: Nicotine Cage in "Face Off"

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

Where there ain’t will power, there’s a crude sphere made of welded steel…

Quitting a vice is hard. Anyone who’s ever forced themselves to stop biting their nails or chewing with their mouth open or sniffing the women’s shoes at Kohl’s (we all do that, right?) will tell you: Sometimes you have to go to extra lengths to make yourself more acceptable in the eyes of polite society.

Such is the case with Turkish mad scientist visionary Ibrahim Yucel, who constructed a nightmarish cage that he wears on his head every day in an attempt to quit smoking. A man so deeply in love with his faith and his family that oaths to his wife, his father who died of lung cancer, and his god weren’t enough for him to kick the habit, Ibrahim has resorted to the next logical step: Jesus strapping himself into something from a bad Nic Cage movie that’s usually filled with bees.

The story, as expected, prompts a few thoughts:

  • I don’t know why he decided that making himself look like someone being tortured in a Hellraiser movie was the best way to go. Unless he’s run out of options at this point. He’s wearing a cast, for some reason, in the photos, so maybe there was an earlier plan that involved slamming a hammer into his fingers whenever he smoked a cigarette. I did that when I tried to quit drinking, but all it did was make it harder to hold my scotch.
  • According to the story, his father dying of lung cancer was the catalyst for his quitting, as Ibrahim probably wants to avoid lung cancer himself. But the story also says that Ibrahim has smoked two packs a day for more than 20 years. Somehow, I don’t think he’s avoiding lung cancer no matter what he does now. At least you’ll die entertaining your kids as the SCARIEST CLOWN EVER.
  • The YouTube video that the HuffPo story links to is phenomenal. As part of his oath, he picks up a copy of the Qur’an, swears on it, and then clumsily attempts to kiss and touch the massive book to his forehead, made impossible due to the giant tea infuser that’s on his dome. It’s like watching the Jack in the Box guy trying to kiss a Harry Potter book.
  • If they carry Virginia Slims in Turkey, there’s no way he’s keeping his oath. If you can fit a straw into your face cage to drink water through like a gerbil, you can fit a Virginia Slim in there. You’ve come a long way, Ibrahim.
  • The highlight of the YouTube video is easily the part where he demonstrates how he eats while trapped in his low-rent sports mascot head by smashing a cracker into the bars and poking the pieces in with a stick. Ibrahim, I applaud your efforts at being a non-smoker, but there are better ways to feed yourself, brother. How much easier would it be to just dribble yogurt or oatmeal in there, or blend all your food together and spackle it against your (literal) grill like you’re hanging drywall?
  • Not a chance he gets laid wearing that thing. That poor woman would have nightmares forever.

June 25, 2013

Trivia Blog: Appauling Deen

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

These people need to learn about tolerance, y’all.

So this whole story about Paula Deen not having her contract renewed by the Food Network because she used the N word is amazing. Not because of Paula’s part in it. A Southern lady using a racial slur registers as news about as much as me getting sunburned on a hot day.

No, what’s fascinating to me has been the massive outcry by Paula’s fans who rushed to her defense because, I don’t know, racism? It’s amazing that in this day and age, people will still try to defend something so ignorant. The comments in that article I linked to above alone are worthy of an anthropological study. A small sampling:

“Ruining a woman’s life and business (along with that of her sons) for something she said years ago, for use of a word that is common place with rap stars and comedians, and between members of the younger generations, is unconscionable.”

“Our children are being brain washed from K – College to become mindless, liberal robots that regergitate leftist slogans like North Koreans at a Kim Suk Ralley. This type of suppression of free speech should be stopped, but there are those that want to instill ‘fear’ in anyone that might go off the liberal reservation.”

“White people are referred to constantly with derogatory names and no one cares. Enough with the double standard.”

“I know why. Because she’s white, female, and successful, which scares the bejeevers out of the liberal left!! I’m exhausted by this blatant double standard take down of an honest, lovely lady.”

Wow. Just… wow.

What people don’t know, though, is that Paula doesn’t need defending. In fact, she’s doubling down on her comments and her fans’ support and has plans to open a racist-themed restaurant, and will probably make billions off of it. I reached out to my sources, and was able to dig up some dirt on this new racist restaurant. Here are just some of the items you can expect to find on the menu:

  • I Don’t Like the Look of That Black Guy-ed Peas
  • Lasagn-Ya Sure Are Hairy, Ain’t Ya?
  • Something French That Smells Bad. Shocking.
  • Good, Hardworking, God-Fearing Burger and Fries
  • Crippled By Alcoholism Irish Soda Bread
  • Bangers and Mash? How ‘Bout Brushes and Floss for Them Crooked Teeth, Guv’nah?
  • Spatzel? What’s So Spatzel About Egg Noodles, You Krauts?
  • Wholesome, Tax-Paying Apple Pie
  • Some Mexican Dish That’s Probably Got Lots of Beans and Rice in It
  • General “Tso Which of Them Asian Countries You From?” Chicken

June 18, 2013

Trivia Blog: The League's Leading Russian

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

A short play…

St. Petersburg, Russia, 2005. Russian President Vladimir Putin stands in his office, admiring the Super Bowl ring “given” to him by New England Patriots owner Robert Kraft. An aide enters the room.

Putin:  Hey, Boris, check out my sweet new ring!
Aide:  Ah… Em… Mr. President, I’m not entirely sure that belong to you.
Putin:  What you saying? You trying to tell me this isn’t my ring? (Reaches toward giant red button on his desk.) Because you know what I do to people who call me a liar…
Aide:  No, no, Mr. President! Is your ring! Is your ring!
Putin:  (Takes hand away from button.) Yeah, it’s my ring.
Aide:  It’s just…
Putin:  (Annoyed) What??
Aide:  Mr. Kraft, he’s still here. He say he’s waiting for his ring back.
Putin:  He what? Did you tell him it’s my ring now?
Aide:  Yes.
Putin:  And what he say?
Aide:  He say must be some mistake. That he only give it to you to hold onto for pictures.
Putin:  But is so shiny…
Aide:  I know, Mr. President, I know. Shall I send him in?
Putin:  Yeah, yeah. Should I take off shirt?
Aide:  … Why?
Putin:  I dunno. Be more imposing.
Aide:  No, no, leave shirt on. You plenty imposing as is. (Opens door.) Mr. Kraft?
(Robert Kraft enters the room.)
Kraft:  Hello, Mr. President. Sorry to bother you, but we’re getting ready to leave, and I just wanted to get my ring back from you.
Putin:  What ring?
Kraft:  Uh… My Super Bowl ring?
Putin:  Super… Bowl?
Kraft:  Yeah, you know. The giant diamond-encrusted ring I gave you as a joke to wear for our photos?
Putin:  I no remember ring. (To aide) You remember ring? (Reaches for giant red button.)
Aide:  Nope! No ring!
(Putin smiles, removes hand from button.)
Kraft:  Now, Mr. President, don’t be silly. You know I gave you that ring to hold. And I know it’s a great ring.
Putin:  (Softly, to himself) Is so shiny…
Kraft:  But I have to get it back, our plane leaves in an hour.
(Putin stares icily at Kraft. After a moment, he picks up a phone on his desk. He speaks Russian into the phone for a minute and hangs up.)
Kraft:  What was that all about…?
(Putin smiles thinly as he continues to stare at Kraft. The door opens and Kraft’s assistant pops his head in.)
Assistant:  Mr. Kraft, we’ve got to go! I just received a call, Tom Brady’s knee just blew up!
Kraft:  What??!!
Assistant:  Yeah, LITERALLY blew up!
Kraft:  But what… how…?
(Suddenly he looks at Putin, who continues to smile thinly. Kraft can see his own fear reflected in Putin’s black, shark-like eyes. He slumps.)
Kraft:  Goodbye, Mr. President. Thank you for your hospitality. And… enjoy your ring.
(Kraft exits dejectedly.)
Putin:  Call George Steinbrenner. Is time he visit the Kremlin.


The End.